I press you into the service, and the man that objects shall have an ounce of lead through him.

Come, my lad, row me aboard.

The anchor's apeak, and we're off for the ould country, and a murrain on this land of yours!" So saying he stumbled along, down a zigzag path that led to the foot of the cliff, where lay moored a small boat and two men in her.
"Belay there, hearties! I've got the villain.

Clap him in irons, I say! He tried to send me over the cliff, but-- how are you, my friend?
Give us your hand.

You're one of the right sort .-- Pull away, boys.